


tuned into able tension

by santanico



Series: blow it all away [3]
Category: Polygon (YouTube) RPF
Genre: Alcohol, F/M, Fingerfucking, Hook-Up, Parties, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 14:54:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11671350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/santanico/pseuds/santanico
Summary: Pat glances at her, grins, sort of lopsided. Simone’s thinking about how handsome he is, how the wiry look really suits him. The hollows of his cheekbones, the darkness under his eyes. He never wears contacts, and she likes that, too. His jeans are just a smidge too tight, make his hips look so thin, and he broadens at the shoulders just perfectly.





	tuned into able tension

**Author's Note:**

> if you're not comfortable with sex and alcohol mixing, this has that, so!  
> i guess this sort of just serves as a prequel to the other ot3 fics in this series

They're drinking at an office party. Polygon’s doing something rare - footing a bill for an open bar - and though they’re all ordering pretty cheap drinks, Simone’s enjoying the ability to go wild. Her paycheck only goes so far.

Pat’s sitting next to her at the bar, chatting with Allegra. Allegra’s drinking some kind of spiked tea, something Simone can hardly believe because it’s so _boring_ but then she realizes this is her third vodka soda and she giggles at herself.

Except Pat keeps leaning over to sip her drinks.

“You know it’s an open bar, right?” Simone says, too loudly even in the crowded space. “You can order your own drink?”

Pat glances at her, grins, sort of lopsided. Simone’s thinking about how handsome he is, how the wiry look really suits him. The hollows of his cheekbones, the darkness under his eyes. He never wears contacts, and she likes that, too. His jeans are just a smidge too tight, make his hips look so thin, and he broadens at the shoulders just perfectly.

“I’m just making sure,” he says, flagging down the bartender. “Can we both get some waters?”

Simone laughs. “It’s the Christmas party. If there’s a better time to get fucked up, I don’t know when it is,” she says, leaning into his shoulder.

And maybe there is a part of her brain that says this is silly, unprofessional.

But Pat looks at her, grazes his fingers over the back of her neck, under the sheet of hair, and she shifts closer, turns her chest towards him, focuses her full attention.

“Here,” Pat says, pushing the water in front of her. She takes a sip. “There’s a lot of vodka in those.”

“What does that matter?” Simone says, rolls her eyes.

Pat presses his teeth into his bottom lip. “Dunno. Guess it depends.”

-

She’s still tipsy enough by the end of the night to enjoy the pleasant tingle on her lips, in her brain. Pat is steady, unflappable even, as everyone says good-night, takes their proper commute home. Simone complains about cab bills and Pat, good-natured and sweet, offers to join her.

Maybe he isn’t so sweet, she thinks, as they’re sitting in the back of the cab and his hand lands on her knee.

It’s just pressure at first, grounding and warm.

She’s wearing sweater tights, and they’re too hot for the car but it’s too cold out to get rid of them. Her skirt is a stretchy, grey fabric. She shifts her knees apart, and Pat’s fingers knead against the tendons there, shift up, each centimeter a hot, pulsating moment in Simone’s mind.

And she could cross her legs, laugh it off, say good-night.

But they get to her apartment and Simone slides out of the cab after paying and raises an eyebrow at Pat and he follows her.

They don’t say a word, except for Simone when she reaches her apartment, mumbling, “We’re home, ta-da,” as she opens the door.

Pat’s hand is hot on her neck as soon as she shuts the front door.

He doesn’t press or push, necessarily, but she goes anyway, lets him crowd her against the wall, press a thigh between her legs. She sighs against his mouth, groans as he grinds up against her.

“God, Simone,” Pat whispers, and isn’t that nice to hear, someone entirely enraptured by her presence.

“Fucking shit, Pat,” Simone says, fists a hand in his hair - he dives his tongue into her mouth, fucks her with it, and she groans and sucks on his tongue, laughing as he presses harder against her.

“You’re a fucking tease,” Pat says, and Simone can’t help the laughter that bursts out of her. She pulls his hair hard, until he’s saying _ow, ow, ow_ and leaning back, and then she presses down against his thigh again.

“I’m a tease? You’ve been thinking about this all night.”

Pat mouths at her neck, holds her tight at her hips. “Maybe,” he mumbles, and there’s a smile in his voice.

“Is this why you kept testing my drinks?”

Pat hesitates, his teeth against her skin. “Not exactly.”

Simone hums, presses her fingers to the nape of his neck. “You just wanted me to play safe, huh?”

“Shut up,” Pat says, no heat to it, and rubs against her. She can feel his cock through his jeans, and she’s missed this, hasn’t been fucked in so long, she’s gotten so bored of her dildos and her fingers, sometimes she just needs real flesh and Pat is proving to be stronger than he looks, holding her steady.

“Fuck me,” she says. “Now.”

Pat sort of laughs, a choked, desperate sound. “Simone,” he says, low and careful.

“I mean it,” she says, moves her hands to the front of his shirt, starts tugging at the buttons of the thick flannel. “It’s too fucking hot for you to be wearing all of this.”

“I could say the same to you,” Pat says with a snort, and they both shift a step back to tug at each other’s clothes. Pat pulls off his shirt, and the tank top underneath, and works open the buttons of Simone’s blouse. She shimmies out of it, a pink satin piece that was too nice for a party where she just got wasted and teased Allegra and Tara all night, and as she’s reaching for the back of her bra she notices that Pat’s staring at her.

“What?”

“You’re so goddamn hot.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Simone says, laughs, but Pat has already sort of bent down to suck on the swell of her breasts. He presses his teeth against her, thumbs her nipples through her bra. It’s a nice one too, not push-up but makes her cleavage look a little more impressive, black-on-black lace. Pat simply pushes the fabric out of the way and sucks her left nipple into her mouth, and Simone squirms, threads her fingers in his hair again. “Jesus, Pat.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles, flicking his tongue over her nipple until she jolts. “Sorry, I couldn’t help it.”

“Apparently. Can I take my bra off?”

He stands up straighter, looks at her. “Would you...would you keep it on?”

She blinks at him. “Sure,” she says after a moment of thought. Pat’s eyes shut and then he starts to reach for the waistband of her skirt. They tug it down together, along with her tights, and her underwear goes halfway too. She slips out of her flats and her tights and skirt, giggles when she looks back up and notices Pat staring again.

“Can I touch you? Please?” he says, in this reverent, heated kind of way, and Simone just nods, because words are all stuck in her throat.

Pat’s fingers are just the right combination of slim and blunt. He slips under the waistband of her underwear and she finds herself pushing them down to her thighs, sighing as he slides through her wetness. It shouldn’t be this good or this easy but Simone’s already pulsing, she’s been on edge all night.

“You’re so...fucking wet,” Pat says, and Simone wants to laugh at him but there’s such sweetness in his tone, admiration almost, so she hums and spreads her legs further. Pat groans as his fingers dip inside of her; he starts with just the middle, the slim digit sliding easily into her cunt. She shifts to take him deeper, sighs as he curves inside her. He’s pressed so close otherwise, his other hand wrapped around her waist, keeping her pinned to the wall.

“I’ve been thinking about this all fucking night,” Simone finally admits, her head going fuzzy as Pat works the heel of his palm on her clit. “Oh, shit. Shit, Pat, fuck _me_.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Jesus Christ,” she hisses, and Pat laughs, slides out of her with a careful movement. Simone groans and clings to his shoulders, then reaches for his jeans. As she’s opening the zipper, Pat’s fumbling in his pocket. “You ass.”

“What? I come prepared,” he says as he rips open the condom. 

“Hurry,” Simone says, shoving his jeans down his legs. Pat sort of laughs, strained and excited, and Simone imagines they must look ridiculous, that if her neighbors knew they’d scold her, if anyone at the office knew they’d look away in shame, but she’s pushing Pat’s boxers down and his cock’s right there, hard and leaking, hot skin so close to hers.

She watches as Pat takes a second to roll the condom on, and then they spend a few seconds to find the right angle.

“Almost, almost,” Simone whispers, when Pat thrusts and hits more of her clit than her opening. “God, I,” she starts to say, and then the head catches and she moans, and Pat grips her hips hard and thrusts. “Oh, shit.”

Pat moans as he sinks into her, and they take a moment to both breathe and adjust. Simone’s back is so sweaty that she’s almost sticking to the wall, but somehow none of this discomfort seems to matter in the face of the situation. She shifts, starts to grind down on Pat’s cock, and he pants against her throat until he’s bottomed out.

“Okay,” she says, lets out a breath she’d been holding. “Okay, pull back, just - just a little.”

Pat listens easily, adjusts for her, and when he pushes his hips back against her it’s perfect, just heat and sensation and his dick curved inside her.

“Jesus, just, angle a little - oh _fuck_ ,” Simone whispers as he hits her g-spot. “There. There, just keep doing that,” she whispers, and Pat says something but it doesn’t register, and he starts to fuck her, lifting one of her thighs up to angle a little easier. Simone’s shaking, the alcohol still leaving a pleasant buzz in the back of her head. “God, yes,” she mumbles, and it spurs Pat on. He fucks her harder, and each thrust remains almost perfectly consistent. He has impressive stamina, she realizes, her thighs already quivering with the exertion, even as Pat drives into her again and again with no hesitation.

“Simone, Simone,” Pat mumbles, and his voice is so close to her ear, his breath so hot. She clings to him, drags her nails along his back, and he moans as he fucks into her. She’s close and she knows it, and Pat’s saying, “Wanna feel you come on my cock, wanna feel your cunt squeeze around me, Jesus Christ, Simone, you’re so fucking hot,” and she finally pushes a hand between her thighs and starts to rub her own clit in frantic circles.

Pat groans as her cunt twitches around him.

“Fuck, Pat, I’m close,” she whispers. “Keep going.”

He breathes out her name and she tries to drag him closer.

Pat kisses her, and she’s circling her clit as fast as her wrist will allow, and Pat’s pumping in and out of her, every other thrust hitting the exact right nerves inside her. Simone throws her head back, the sound a hard thud against her thin walls, and she lets out a low, thin moan.

“Pat, Pat, Pat, I’m gonna, don’t stop, please, you’re so fucking - oh, oh, _shit_ ,” she says, and the force of it is incredible, sweeping through her entire body. She comes hard around Pat’s cock, feels him twitch and hesitate inside of her before somehow speeding up, Pat’s thrusts frantic and erratic. 

Simone’s entire body is pulsating, her thighs shaking, and Pat’s still fucking into her without any sign of slowing down. Her cunt is sore and throbbing and there’s a part of her that wants him to keep going and a part that wants it to stop, and she’s torn between the two sensations before the _keep going_ wins out, his thrusts sending a wave of extra stimulation through her entire body, her limbs twitching.

“C’mon, Pat,” Simone murmurs, gives his hair a light tug. He gasps and his thrusts pause and then start up again and then he groans into her neck and goes utterly still. “Yes,” she says with a pleased sigh, just as Pat drops her thigh and they both slump against the wall.

They separate, Pat shoving his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Simone laughs, pulls her underwear up her thighs. She’s shaking so hard she’s afraid she might collapse, so instead of looking at Pat awkwardly trying to get his pants back on, she walks over to the couch and falls down, back first, onto the cushions.

“Get us both some more water,” she half-calls, and Pat says, “Aye, aye,” and Simone listens to him step into the kitchen. He comes back with two glasses, settles on the couch next to her, and she lifts her head to rest it in his lap. He hands her the glass and she presses the bottom of it to her forehead.

“Nice,” Pat says, petting her hair.

“That was so...fucking good,” she says, looking up at him. Pat raises an eyebrow.

“You think?”

“Don’t start doubting yourself now,” she laughs, and Pat laughs too, warm and tired.

“Are we gonna fall asleep here?”

“You think I’m letting you sleep here?” she scoffs, and Pat frowns at her, suddenly serious, then grins when she raises an eyebrow at him.

“This is interesting,” Pat says. “But I don’t wanna fall asleep on your couch. No offense to your couch.”

“You’re right,” Simone mumbles, and she starts to stand up, stretches. “Can I take my bra off now?”

And Pat looks at her, and somehow there’s still that heat there, and something in her chest flutters, telling her this isn’t the last time she’s going to see that look.

“Yeah, I suppose,” Pat says, lighter than she expects, and Simone laughs as she walks down the hall, listening as Pat follows behind her.

**Author's Note:**

> @[kevinspaceyvoice](http://kevinspaceyvoice.tumblr.com) for more bullshit


End file.
